Le Voyage dans la lune
by alittlewhos-this
Summary: A begrudging photograph means the world, the moon.
1. Chapter 1

"You look like a sporting fellow! Care to test your strength, lad?"

The barker had cut clear through the cacophony of chatter and the occasional shrieks of glee or fear. Thomas had been watching the swing ride, which had started to give him sympathy nausea, when he knocked into the back of Jimmy. He had stopped dead and was apparently no longer able to walk and think at the same time. That would explain a few things, Thomas thought, not unkindly.

"We have a history," Jimmy said, gesturing towards the game with a flick of his head.

"I'm assuming you don't mean the old man?"

"No, I didn't mean the old man. The game. Last time I tried it, it showed me up." He appeared to consider for a moment. "If I don't win this time, will you laugh at me?"

"Yes."

Jimmy's face screwed up in consternation and he huffed his way over to pay the man in charge for two attempts. The man handed him the mallet and Jimmy squared himself. He swung the mallet down with as much force has he could muster, but the bell remained steadfastly silent. "It were nearly there," he said defensively, spinning around to Thomas. "And, well - I'm not fighting fit, am I? So it's no wonder, really."

In a voice dripping with sympathy, Thomas asked Jimmy if his jam injury was playing up.

Jimmy turned a rather fun shade of red. "That's not funny."

"I don't know, Mrs Patmore could barely get it out for laughing when she told me."

"Bloody woman. I meant 'cos I'm a bit drunk, aren't I? It's hardly fair."

"You wanted to do it." Thomas was often bewildered by Jimmy's strange, sometimes angry, fits of woe-is-me. God help you if you tried to extend sympathy - he just wanted an audience to rave to. Thomas still had to bite back the desire to reassure him.

"Lad, are you going to want your second go or not?"

"No." Jimmy extended the handle of the mallet to Thomas. "You give it a go."

Thomas sighed. To succeed would surely elicit one hell of a sulk from the blond, but Thomas wasn't going to slacken his effort. There was a sweetly sadistic streak in him that got a bit of a thrill watching Jimmy pout. He instinctively wanted to kiss it away and watch the sulk drop from him like a veil.

Grabbing the mallet, he swung it downward without a pause and the bell cried out. Quite loudly, he noted.

"That were right graceful, son," the barker said, nodding his approval. Thomas handed the mallet back to him. "Wait just a moment, you've got a reward coming."

"With a bad hand and all," Thomas said, clapping Jimmy on the arm.

The man extended a very small teddy bear, almost certainly made by his wife. "For the nipper. Tell 'em your a regular strongman." Thomas took the bear somewhat awkwardly and nodded a good day to the man. He steered Jimmy quickly away before he spent any more money trying to one-up Thomas.

"I don't suppose you'll want this?" Thomas asked, holding the bear up. Jimmy glared daggers at him.

Thomas frowned down at it for a moment, when he suddenly held it out in offer to a little ice-cream faced boy. The boy looked unsure, but slowly reached out for the bear until he held its paw. "Tell your mum that the bear wants ice cream," Thomas said. The boy lit up at the idea and finally tore the bear from Thomas's grip. He gave a sort of garbled, over-excited thanks and took off. The two men began in the opposite direction.

"You're an odd bird, aren't you?" Jimmy asked, amused.

"How's that?"

"I wouldn't have taken you as being good with kids."

"I'm fine with kids until they get tetchy. How I've managed to put up with you for so long, I'll never know."

Jimmy laughed and slapped the back of his hand into Thomas's ribs. "You used to be so nice to me."

"You didn't like me very much when I was nice," he said easily. Jimmy bumped his shoulder into Thomas's arm with a friendly sort of reassurance.

"You should have a drink. Join me." They bumped into one another again before they stopped their aimless journey.

"I doubt I'll be catching up to you," Thomas smiled. He looked around to locate the spot where the punch was. Not terribly far, not terribly busy. "I could maybe meet you part way?" Jimmy nodded.

"You can go get some while I play this." He gestured to a game behind him.

"Good luck," Thomas smiled. He turned and disappeared into a crush.

Jimmy spun himself around to the game and paid for ago to throw a ball at a tin pyramid a couple of times. He hit it each time, but the bottom row would not budge for love or money. He frowned and looked into the crowd.

"That one was bloody fixed," he muttered under his breath. He attempted to console himself with a cigarette only to find they weren't in his pocket; he suddenly had a very clear image of them on his dresser. He swore aloud, provoking the glares of several passers-by. He winked at a disapproving woman and she blushed away her upset.

Thomas re-emerged from the crowd, shaking his head. "I could you hear from back there. You'll have a mother's brigade after us soon, if you're not quieter."

"You're never going to meet me," Jimmy frowned at the cup Thomas held.

"I had one back there, as well."

"Good. Can I have a cigarette?"

Thomas rolled his eyes, but retreived his pack and handed it over. Jimmy took one out and slid the pack into his own pocket. He put the cigarette between his lips and stared at Thomas expectantly. He looked at the cigarette, but made no indication of action.

"Do you think I could have a light, as well?"

"Needy," Thomas replied, getting his lighter and extending its flame to Jimmy.

They ambled on in silence for a time, enjoying the buzz of summer and the extent of the happiness engulfing them. Thomas felt the warm disjoining of alcohol creep over him as Jimmy slid a little further back to sobriety. They settled for passing a bit of time watching the tug-of-war (a different set of 'champions' than the ones they'd encountered). Said champions wasted no time in tidily beating two different groups during the length of time the men watched.

"We must have been very impressive," Jimmy said, smirking. Thomas agreed.

After a brief trip to return the cup they wandered the side of the fair they'd not yet come to. Jimmy kept stealing glances at Thomas, who did his best to ignore them. It wasn't long before curiosity got the best of him, and he looked to Jimmy and raised his eyebrows inquisitively.

"You've got a terrible tell. You go all red when you drink, like you're wearing rouge."

"Oh, that's great. That's what I needed to hear, thank you," Thomas laughed.

Jimmy turned to walk backward in front of him. "Would you do something if I asked you to?"

"I don't know. Probably. What?"

Jimmy stopped and moved out of his eyeline, revealing a photographer's stall.

"Not that."

"You said you would do what I asked."

"You hear everything as what you'd like to hear. I said 'probably'."

"Come on. It's only thruppence. I'll pay for it."

"It's hardly that; thruppence isn't likely to lead to my ruin." Thomas made the mistake of looking at Jimmy, who was trying to look endearing. Trying, succeeding.

"I know it won't be your ruin. That's why we should, see?" Thomas looked pained. "Can I not have a photo of you?"

"I'll give you one."

"I want one from right now, though."

"You just told me I looked like I'm made up."

Jimmy frowned and looked like he was deep in thought. After a moment, he perked up. "No, you know what it is?"

"Hm?"

"You look like," Jimmy began, before dropping his voice and leaning into the other, "you've been fucked."

Thomas snorted and ducked his head down. "And you want to commemorate that," he said, voice twisted in a grin.

"Well, it's now or never. Unless you fancy buying one of those instant cameras."

"You'd only use it for smut."

"That's what they're for," Jimmy said, as if Thomas were a bit dim.

"Probably," he acquiesced. Then, in a far lower voice, "But unless you're thinking of going into business, there's no sense in spending four pounds so you can enshrine your cock. Even you can't be that vain."

"You're absolutely no fun."

They continued walking, edging closer to the booth, when Thomas halted and grabbed Jimmy's sleeve to get him to stop.

"Why do you want one done so badly?"

"I told you, didn't I?" Jimmy said, a strain of annoyance sharpening the words.

"It's probably not a good idea. You don't need a photograph of me, anyway. I'm always with you."

Jimmy let out an frustrated burst of breath and headed to a cluster of tables. He sat down heavily, in the direct glare of the sun, and scowled at the people having their photos done. Thomas stayed standing where he was, flummoxed. He watched Jimmy's face and came to sit at the table with him once the anger had trickled down to resignation.

"You'll burn your face if you keep in the sun."

Jimmy wordlessly moved his chair into the shade.

The silence was frayed, both of them choking back words. Thomas wasn't entirely sure why Jimmy was quite this put out. He hadn't said it unkindly, but it was true: barely two hours passed through without them seeing one another, at least in passing. He thought it had been teasing and while Jimmy had a tendency towards overreaction, this was a bit much for that. He stared at Jimmy, willing him to cheer up and to return the pilfered cigarettes.

Jimmy sighed and turned to look at him. "Is it really just that you're worried?"

"Mostly."

"In for a penny." He shrugged. "A fairground photo's not going to be anyone's undoing. Plenty of mates were getting theirs done. It's just a bit of fun."

Thomas felt like he was being tested, in all senses of the word. Jimmy looked him at pleadingly, and it made his chest hurt. He hated denying him, especially over something that was, essentially, trivial. "Please, Thomas?"

"You're not going to let up, are you?" He received a shake of the head in answer. "Let's go, then."

Jimmy gave him a brilliant smile.

"You shouldn't get worked up so easily."

"You should let me have my way."

"You're such an arse."

"I'm the worst," he agreed, cheerily.

"You'd better treasure this postcard until your dying day, for all the fuss."

"I'll be buried with it and all."

Though Thomas had started this line, he ached to hear Jimmy agree. Jimmy looked at him expectantly, very openly, as they reached their destination and told him to pay the photographer. He looked so pleased with himself and Thomas wanted nothing more than to take him in his arms and kiss him quiet.

The photographer watched them expectantly until Thomas fished out the change and handed it over to him. "Very good. Go through that curtain there and just sit yourselves down. Or stand, if you like. No matter to me."

They walked into the booth and Jimmy swept an arm out. "Shall we sit?"

"This is embarrassing."

"It's not. Stop being a clod."

A great paper moon was suspended in the middle, with a black bench placed behind the bottom. "I think he's enjoying himself a bit too much," Thomas said, gesturing to the disconcertingly salacious expression which adorned the moon.

"Oh, hell," Jimmy laughed. He leaned an elbow on the moon's nose. "Sit down. Closer, like you've met me before."

They stopped fidgeting about when they saw that the photographer looked as ready to shoot them with a gun as a camera. Jimmy sat just ahead of Thomas, so their shoulders barely overlapped, and with a studied languidness dropped his hand on Thomas's thigh. "Don't look miserable or I'll make you buy another, I swear," Jimmy warned.

"Are you quite finished?" The photographer snapped. They both burst into laughter, feeling for all the world like naughty schoolboys. The photographer seized the opportunity that their shutting up presented and took the photo.


	2. Chapter 2

Thomas made his way into Jimmy's room at around two in the morning, having already slept a couple of hours away. When he entered, the room was dark aside from a bit of moonlight. He contemplated leaving, letting Jimmy sleep, but he decided it against it shortly after it had come to mind. He reached for the lamp and when its light illuminated the bed, it revealed Jimmy half-sitting, propped by his pillow, with his alarm clock on his lap.

"What are you doing?"

"I convinced myself to wake up, but I hadn't convinced myself to move."

"Here I thought you were cuddling a clock in my stead."

Jimmy stroked the clock's bells lovingly before he set it on the bedside table. "Your turn, I guess," he sighed.

Thomas made his way over to the bed and sat on the edge. From this new vantage point, he saw that the post-card was propped against the washbasin and he could feel himself grin stupidly. He slid his hand under Jimmy's shirt and curled it around his hipbone. He inclined his head towards the post-card. "You shouldn't keep that there."

"I won't. But while I'm in here, it can be where I bloody like."

They met mid-way for a kiss, which Thomas shortly broke away from with a laugh. "And you get after me for being soppy," he teased. He slid his hand farther up Jimmy's shirt, aligning his fingers with the grooves in the ribs beneath.

"You'd always be soppy if I didn't put a stop to it." Jimmy interlaced his fingers with those on Thomas's free hand. He looked at it for a moment and frowned slightly. "It makes me nervous."

"Why?" Jimmy saw a shadow of hurt in Thomas's eyes, even in the dull light. He extricated his fingers and stroked them into Thomas's still-slick hair in order to pull him down for another kiss, deeper this time by way of apology. Jimmy moved as far over as he could to allow Thomas some space to lie next to him.

Thomas sank into the spot and their lips brushed on another again. Jimmy rested his head flat against the bed and stared up at Thomas, whose scalp he was tracing small circles against. "You love me so much."

"I know," Thomas replied, traces of a smile forming at the corners of his mouth. He pulled himself closer still and rested his forehead against Jimmy's temple.

"I just - What if I get to need that and it ends badly?"

Jimmy turned his head and met Thomas's eyes. "It may end badly, or well, or not at all. But I don't think that will happen for a long while. Unless you have plans I don't know about." Jimmy kissed near the outer corner of his eye, on the cheekbone. "If you get too caught up in the end of this, you'll never enjoy it."

"That's why I wanted that picture done." It had burst forth; if Jimmy hadn't said it immediately he doubted he ever would have. "If this gets spoiled, I wouldn't have anything real from it. I could have dreamt it up."

That was quite enough to make Thomas's heart ache. When he spoke it was with a voice which had a shiver running through it, only able to bear an apology. He manoeuvred onto his back and pulled Jimmy half on top of him.

"I do love you," Jimmy said quietly. He shifted himself up so that their heads were aligned. "That's real enough for now, isn't it?"

"That's real for as long as you think it is."

Jimmy kissed him again. "I'm still glad for the picture," he said against Thomas's mouth.

"Good."

Their tongues ghosted against one another and their hands slid against their partner's scalp, pulling themselves together. Touching never seemed enough - they wanted to hold one another close for long enough that their ribs ached and intertwined. Jimmy tugged Thomas's lower lip with his teeth and placed an excruciatingly soft kiss on the divets made in the flesh.

Jimmy sat up and straddled Thomas's hips, drinking in the sight of him: kiss-bruised, irises blackened with lust, expression purely love. Currents directed themselves to his heart and cock in equal measure. Jimmy laughed unsteadily. "This is one of those times when that camera would be nice."

"It's an idea."

"It's a _terrible_ idea," Jimmy scoffed. "Don't agree with everything I say. You're meant to be the level-headed one."

"I'd agree to most things if you asked me now. I'll keep that in mind, though."

Jimmy gave a slightly mischevious smile. "Will you use your mouth?"

"I'd do that if you asked while we served dinner," Thomas answered with a laugh. He palmed Jimmy's cock through his pyjamas, trailed his fingertips lightly along its length. Jimmy's eyes shut and he dropped his head to his chest. "You'll have to move off me," Thomas said, not stopping his ministrations.

"Yes," he agreed, but only just rocked his hips against Thomas's fingers.

"Lay down," Thomas said, moving his hand to Jimmy's stomach. Jimmy didn't move, only stared at him hazily through his lashes. "I want to taste you." Jimmy reached out and ran his thumb along Thomas's lips, through which his tongue met the offered skin.

Jimmy pressed himself flush against Thomas and they lost time in a deep kiss before Thomas remembered his aim. He gingerly rolled the two of them over so that he was on top. Stopping his trajectory for a moment, he pulled the neckline of Jimmy's undershirt down, biting and sucking at the collarbone until it speckled red under his mouth. He pushed the bottom of the shirt up and ran an appreciative hand over Jimmy's torso.

Little easy sighs trickled from Jimmy's throat at the interplay between lips and tongue and teeth on his skin as Thomas slipped down his body. Thomas pulled Jimmy's hips to the side so his legs dropped off of the bed and he sunk to his knees between them.

He undid the tie of the pyjama bottoms and removed them, tossing them onto the floor behind him. Thomas ran his fingers along the inside of Jimmy's thighs and he watched as Jimmy's hands flexed desperately at his sides.

"God, you're gorgeous," he murmured reflexively, watching Jimmy's cock pulse with his heartbeat. He reached up and wrapped his arms around Jimmy's low back and pulled him closer.

He leaned his chest against Jimmy's legs so he couldn't buck his hips. He took most of Jimmy's cock in his mouth without preamble and Jimmy tried to spread his legs further apart and found them trapped. He wound his fingers tightly around Thomas's hair and tried to guide him, but Thomas was stronger and kept himself at his own pace.

Jimmy moved one of his hands to wrap around himself and try to make up for the lack of purchase given his lower body by desperate tugs, occasionally knocking against Thomas's mouth. Thomas laughed and Jimmy could feel the hum and the twisting of Thomas's tongue against his prick. "Christ. Please."

Thomas dug his nails into Jimmy's back and took him in as deeply as possible. Jimmy arched and pulled Thomas's hair until it turned from pleasurable into painful. "Do that again, please, please," he begged, voice cracking. Thomas repeated the action, moaning around his cock when Jimmy's gasps turned into quiet sobs. Jimmy ran his hand desperately through Thomas's hair and made to grip it again when Thomas reached for his arms and held them down against his stomach.

He felt as though his self was beginning to pool in the throbbing of his erection; all he could feel was Thomas's mouth, could only see pretty red lips encircling him. "Fuck, you're lovely like this," he whispered. Thomas nodded slightly and met his gaze. It was that which did him in - something about the way Thomas would look at him always seemed to undo him, to push him over any precipice. He came, pressing his head into the bed until it hurt, and Thomas kept his mouth around him until the tremors of aftershocks stilled.

Thomas pulled his head away and released Jimmy's arms from his grasp. Jimmy sat up and tilted Thomas's face upward and kissed him gratefully, tasting himself against smoke. He lead Thomas up and over him, enjoying the comfort of his weight.

"You're never that polite during the day," Thomas said against Jimmy's cheek.

"You're never that nice during the day. You should work on that, Mr Barrow."

Jimmy pushed Thomas's pyjamas down to his thighs and felt the heat of his bare skin. He put his foot on the crotch of the trousers and kicked them off entirely.

Thomas kissed his where Jimmy's hairline began, just behind his ear, and received a sighed in return. Jimmy rolled his hips, sliding Thomas's cock against his thighs.

"Should I take you in the wine cellar? Or the servery?" Thomas whispered raggedly into his ear.

"Servery. Over the desk."'

Jimmy wrapped a hand around Thomas's length, thumb fixedly stroking across the head and slicking its length with fluid that dripped over his hand and belly. Thomas spat into his hand and ran it between Jimmy's thighs before replacing it with his cock.

"Have you been planning that?" Thomas asked as he rocked into the friction and heat surrounding him. For a moment, Jimmy didn't realise what he'd meant by the question, and so captured his mouth for a rough kiss. When it dawned on him, he gasped away from Thomas's lips and nodded.

"We'd have to keep quiet, because," Jimmy briefly lost his breath to the increasing pace of Thomas's movements, which his own matched, "there would be people outside. But you'd - you'd make me beg for you."

Thomas hummed his agreement into Jimmy's shoulder.

"Thomas, I want you so much," he said into the black mess of Thomas's hair. "Always, always."

Jimmy felt Thomas's hands take hold of him by the hips and bring the two of them together with more violence than Jimmy had been supplying. Thomas came, biting into Jimmy's skin to stifle any sound. He remained until his breathing stilled, then kissed the crenulation at Jimmy's shoulder as he turned himself onto his side, on the bed.

Jimmy stood and made his way to the table bearing the washbasin. He picked up the post-card and handed it to Thomas."Hold that for a minute."

Thomas rested its edge on his sternum and looked at it for a little longer than he had at the fair. They looked absurd and it sent a jolt of happiness through him to see it. Neither of them were easy men, yet they provoked it in one another - and Jimmy had had the good sense and the photographer the good fortune of capturing a moment that, for the two of them, spelled nothing but love. Love that had now been documented and forced into history.

"Do you know the song Come Take a Trip in My Air Ship?"

Jimmy laughed. "What made you think of that?"

"No one to watch while we're kissing," he began, just slightly more sing-song than his usual voice, "no one to see while we spoon, come take a trip in my air ship and we'll visit the man in the moon."

"Ah," he replied, grinning. "You're dippy."

Once Thomas had gotten up to wash, Jimmy set the post-card on his pillow and pulled the duvet off of the bed, throwing it over the pile of pyjamas on the floor. He flopped sideways onto the bed. "I'm spent."

"I can't imagine why. You did a lot of laying there."

Jimmy had the good sense to look offended, but couldn't keep the smile from creeping over his face. "All the better for your wicked ways. And I work awfully hard. You've forgotten the struggle, Mr Barrow."

Thomas shook his head disparagingly and kissed Jimmy's forehead. "Unlikely." He returned the post-card to its temporary home at the basin and turned off the lamp.

After making Jimmy re-position himself lengthwise, Thomas lay beside him. Jimmy sank into his embrace, arm draped over his chest.

"I am glad you made us get that photo," Thomas said.

"I know. I didn't think you'd put up that much of a fight, but I knew you'd like it once it was done. You're a sentimental sort."

"That sounds better than soppy."

"You're still soppy," Jimmy laughed.

For a long while after, they let themselves drift on a silence sweeter than words, pinning the reality of the night to their memories. Jimmy's fingers sometimes brushed against Thomas's ribs and Thomas sometimes ran a hand down Jimmy's spine, each gathering up the feelings of bone and skin for thoughts years on. Their heartbeats matched; they could feel both expanding and contracting at different places where their bodies met, as though their hearts worked to the same end for a shared body.

They lay awash, enwombed, in the flow of their blood and the moonlight.

t.


End file.
